Noel's new radio party

When it comes to mounting a charm offensive, this is a man who could teach David Beckham a trick or two. Three years ago, the career of Noel Edmonds was in freefall - particularly bad news for a helicopter lover.

The BBC had called time on Noel's House Party because of dwindling audiences, and the broadcaster retired to his Devon estate in a huff, vowing never to darken the door of a TV studio ever again. The sage of Crinkley Bottom, the ruthless overlord of the gunge tank, the only begetter of Mr Blobby, had determined to keep his own counsel after 30 years of mouthing off. Yesterday evening, however, he was back, riding the airwaves of Radio 2's Drive Time.

Epic music played and the appropriately portentous voice of Brian Perkins made the announcement: "There's an old saying all good things must come to an end. And to prove it, he's back."

I had forgotten just how much I had missed that special brand of self-deprecating wit which, of course, is anything but. Noel Edmonds, let us not forget, was originally a disc jockey. I've always thought of him as one of the three great figures of radio: Simon Bates the master of tragedy; Dave Lee Travis the epitome of buffoonery; Noel Edmonds the ultimate arbiter in modern manners.

And, boy, was he pleased to be back. He told us as much several times, and he told everyone who phoned in as well. They reciprocated warmly to the extent that it would have been easy to fill the two hours with the merry percussion of the prodigal son's back being thumped by delirious well-wishers. The natural audience for Drive Time consists of people who have been grievously inconvenienced by the closure of the Hammersmith flyover and other crucial arterial routes.

They need something to keep their minds off their temperature gauges. Even though we all know that Noel is a techno freak, he played the hopeless ingenue for our amusement. He claimed adherence to an era when the Dansette was king, a simple man talking to his peer group.

The girl with the traffic news was flirted off her chair. The man with the business news found himself in the company of a man with business views of his own. By the time a chap turned up to reminisce about the golden age of railways, Noel Edmonds had created another version of Crinkley Bottom, where road rage and overheating are unknown. These irritations are replaced in this parallel universe by Noel's special brand of humour which finds him in paroxysms of laughter over someone in Africa who tranquillises gorillas and then dresses them up as clowns.

The show seemed to be over as soon as it had started, such was its quicksilver nature. You have to hand it to the man, put a microphone in front of him and he's gotcha.